I think I'm going to stick to this series of drabbles for the time being. School is coming up, and the reason I was MIA was because I had procrastinated on all of my summer homework, and also, my schedule has blown up like no other so...I ACTUALLY HAVE A LIFE NOW AND I COULDN'T WRITE AS MUCH ICHIRUKI AS I WANTED TO FUUUUUU. Anyway, this sentence probably doesn't make sense since it is 3 in the morning, and I just wrote this drabble, so pardon any mistakes it may have. I just felt insanely guilty I hadn't updated for around two weeks, so, yeah. Yes, look forward to this drabble series, and Oh! will be put on a temporary hiatus as my life switches gears :)

Dancing, Cold

"Maybe you should stop waiting around for me then," he said, his voice lost in the crowded room. The show was starting, the musicians plucking at their strings and coughing into their mics. The club patrons crossed their legs and waited. I sat closer to him, but our stools were only so close.

"Why?" I knew I sounded as confused as I felt, and I hated that. He always managed to bring out the weaknesses in me. He always had such magic. He always said my name in that husky voice of his, with eyes that were always heavy and smoldering like melting candles in a dark room.

He sighed, tilting his head up to look at the bar menu.

Ladies Night.

It was neon, and it was missing an 'i'. I knew he hated stuff like that; things that were missing things. Not that it made much sense, either way you looked at it. Then again, Ichigo never really made much sense.

"Rukia, I never do anything for you. I can't do anything for you. Especially since your brother disowned you and everything." His calloused fingers wrapped around the handle of his mug, dragging it lazily across the counter. There was the dull scrap of china across the glossy surface.

"What do you mean by that," I half laughed as the lights dimmed, and, strangely, the smell of coffee and cigarettes grew more pronounced in the darkness. "You're here with me tonight, aren't you?"

"Maybe." The word was a verbal thought, left unfinished in the air.

A guitar chord ascended into the air, upturning into twangy, curling spirals amidst the delicate fluttering of keyboard notes.

His hand found mine.

"Ichigo…"

"Let's go."

He got up, splaying his fingers across the bar. He laid out four fives and a quarter, gathering up his trench coat and tugging at my hand. Those calloused digits, secure and strong, wrapped around my wrist as he pulled me through the swaying silhouette of the crowd and out the front door. The winter air was colder than we had both imagined, and he hurriedly tugged on his coat. I rubbed my hands together for warmth. My palms were dry, I needed lotion.

His boots crunched in the snow as he walked down the sidewalk. I followed closely, although it was somewhat hard, being that his strides were so long and he always loped whenever he walked. Despite how he always left me behind when he walked like this, I really didn't mind. It was a fantastic way of walking, and I wouldn't have preferred him any other way. My precious long-legged Ichigo and his loping.

Ichigo turned the corner, his bright, orange hair half in the streetlight and half in the darkness of the alleyway. He looked like a cat, peering out from the shadows.

"Follow me, baby."

My footsteps were light and delicate as I skirted around glassy pools of ice.

"You haven't called me that in a long time."

"I know. I'm sorry."

I stopped once I was in front of him. I watched his face carefully, "No need to be sorry for anything. Shit happens."

We could hear the music through the walls, through the heavy bricks. I tried to keep time, tapping my foot until I tripped. He scoffed, but he caught me, putting his hand around my waist. He pulled me to him, and we stood there, half in the light, half in the dark. His bare fingers reached to trace patterns on the frosted window sill.

"What are you doing," I murmured, reveling in the warmth emanating from his tall, strong frame. His camel-hair coat felt coarse against my face, he smelled like wood-smoke and cognac.

"Trying to figure out what to say."

He sighed heavily, and I felt it reverberate against my cheek. I was leaning my head against his chest.

This was how Ichigo and I were. One moment, we could be sitting in all awkwardness, trying to listen to a band play when all we were listening to was the distance between us. The next moment, we could be together and all tangled up in each other like no other. It was crazy.

"Rukia, I've decided that I'm going to try. I know I'm a fuck up, and I'm not the most reliable person around…but." His fingers traced a scraggly circle on the glass.

I looked up and saw that his cheeks were turning pink from the cold. His eyelashes, long and dark, were shuttered over his eyes. They widened fractionally, and for a moment I could see into their swirling, languid depths. Deep, dark ochre.

"Rukia, just promise me that you will accept my love. Promise me that," his breath came out in silvery, spiraling plumes, "even though I may not love you the way you want me to…" he dipped his head down. His lips were cold against mine, but his voice was soft and warm against my cheek, "that you will still love me back. Because I will always love you the best I can." His fingers left the snow, moved to grasp my head. His kiss was tender, drugging. He simply took from me, scraping his teeth against my lips, dipping his tongue to steal my breath. He was dragging me over the edge, making me go soft and vulnerable in his arms.

The passion was fleeting.

It left me wanting more. But he was gone before I could reach for the back of his neck. His hands grasped mine, and he pulled us away from the wall.

The music was still playing, so we danced. Our movements were slow and awkward, but amidst the smiles I couldn't hide, and the way I always seemed to captivate his eyes, we managed a step or two.

It was a cold night, but it was a good night for dancing.